


The Betrothal

by fayegrove



Category: British Actor RPF, Norse Mythology, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Engagement, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Love Triangles, Marriage, Tearjerker, True Love, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayegrove/pseuds/fayegrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The princess Sigyn is sworn in marriage to Thor, heir of Asgard, even though her heart secretly belongs to that of his younger brother, Loki. For the good of the kingdom they have no choice but to say farewell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Betrothal

**Author's Note:**

> _"In that moment she was not the beautiful princess sworn to his brother, the heir to the Asgardian throne. She was the little girl whom he had met as a child, teasing her relentlessly until she ran away, crying. She was the young teen who had allowed him to kiss her in one of the deserted corridors of Valhalla during a holiday visit from the Vanaheim court. She was the young woman who, not even two years prior, had given Loki her maidenhead in his chambers and then cried in his arms afterwards. Sigyn was the woman whom he loved above all else, and what he knew was that she was in pain."_
> 
> Also on [Tumblr](http://tomsdarling.tumblr.com/post/34858444586/the-betrothal) and [FF](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8948402/1/The-Betrothal).

“Are you ready for this, brother? You’re going to have a sister in law soon. Maybe even some nieces or nephews,” Thor laughed heartily, clapping his big hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki managed a smile for Thor as they passed through the oaken double doors of the council room where the Allfather and Frigga sat waiting with the Vanir rulers, Odr and Freyja. To their left was a girl who appeared to be not far out of the fresh of youth. Even at a distance her long, white blonde hair was visible from where she sat rigidly in her seat.

“You’re late,” Odin called out as the two princes approached the enormous, circular table. “Both of you were supposed to have been here twenty minutes ago.”

“My apologies, father,” Thor boomed out heartily as he took his seat alongside Odin, followed promptly by Loki. “We were sparring and lost all track of time.”

“Mmh,” Odin grunted, turning his attention back to the rather stoic group sitting across the table from where Loki sat. “Now that my sons have decided to grace us with their presence, let us finalize these wedding plans. You were saying, Odr?”

“Merely that with Sigyn set to marry your heir we can have your absolute assurance that the Aesir and Vanir will be formally united in a peace treaty.”

Odin waved his hand and one of the servants brought forward a parchment, which he took in his hand and unraveled to show the other King. “This here is the peace treaty that we can sign now, before the wedding if you so choose. In it you will find the a promise that, should either of our kingdoms come under attack or require any form of aid, the other will come to their assistance.”

Odr took the parchment and began to read while Loki leaned against the back of his chair, his eyes moving languidly between each of the three figures seated across from him. Odr was as old as Odin was, with long, white hair that he kept fastened in a braid, his white beard cropped close to his jaw. His clothes were of the finest silks and furs, contrasting starkly with the plating of the Asgardian King’s own attire. Freyja was a magnificent creature, with milky white skin and blonde locks seemingly made of spun gold in how they shimmered in the sunlight. Her figure—displayed proudly in a tight, pale yellow silken gown—was curvaceous, her bosom shown for all the world to see beneath a plunging neckline. Confidence radiated from the woman and, had Loki not had the desire to turn his gaze away from the glow emanating from her, he might never have glanced twice at the girl seated by her side.

Sigyn was beautiful in her own right, but she had not inherited the striking features to the same magnitude of her mother. Her hair was such a pale blonde as to have nearly no hue at all, and it hung in long waves around an equally pale face. However where Freyja possessed wide, doe eyes of a lavender shade, Sigyn’s eyes were smaller and a more vibrant, cerulean blue. Though she was built similarly to her mother, the princess was nowhere near as buxom, and she was dressed in a modest gown of navy silk. The shade was so striking against her pale skin that she appeared to be wasting away—or was that the truth of the matter? Her cheeks had a hollowed out quality to them, as if she had not eaten in some time, or had perhaps been ill.

The girl caught Loki’s gaze and blushed under the scrutiny, lowering her eyes to the surface of the table as the two sets of rulers hashed out final negotiations and signed more papers. Occasionally Thor and Sigyn themselves were required to sign a document and Loki noticed that the girl’s hand trembled as she took the quill in hand to scribble her signature. After what had felt like hours Odin finally rose to his feet.

“Then that is settled. In a few hours the wedding shall commence as planned but for now let’s all rest. Odr, Freyja,” he said their names respectfully as he bowed out of the room, followed by a serene Frigga. The rulers of Vanaheim also rose, and Sigyn half-glanced at Thor and then Loki before turning to follow them out of the council room.

“What say you to another practice round, brother?” Thor’s voice came from what felt to be the opposite end of a trench, and Loki tore his gaze away from the retreating Vanir back towards his elder brother.

“No. Thank you Thor, but I believe I will go study until the wedding.”

Thor laughed and slapped him on the back jovially. “Very well! Go to your books then, I shall take a ride before getting ready myself. She really is pretty, isn’t she?” he added as an afterthought.

“She favors her mother greatly,” Loki agreed with a slight dip of his head before turning to exit the chamber himself and heading in the direction of his private library. The journey seemed to take but mere seconds with the speed of his racing thoughts and, by the time he reached the doors, he only just remembered to do a double take to verify that no one else was milling about the passageway. Satisfied, he opened the door and shut it behind himself, locking it with his own brand of magic.

“Loki,” a voice whispered. The sound was so full of longing and agony that it tore at his heart as if a dagger had been thrust there, and he turned towards the direction from whence it had come. There stood Sigyn by his writing desk, her fingers interlacing and twisting with anxiety as she stared at the prince breathlessly.

“Sigyn,” Loki murmured. The only person whom he had enabled passage through the magic that barred everyone else from his private study was the wisp of a girl who now stood before him. In an instant he was in front of her, unaware of having magicked himself in his haste to wrap her in his arms. Their lips met and all other thought was obliterated from Loki’s mind, his fingers snaking their way through her hair to hold onto the back of her scalp, his tongue finding hers with an urgency he had never known. Sigyn whimpered and pressed her body into his, her arms resting over her shoulders as her hands gripped tightly to the back of his neck and played with his hair.

“Loki, I don’t want to marry Thor—“ she broke the kiss suddenly, tears in her eyes.

“Shh,” he hushed her with his lips against hers once more, and he could feel the tears beginning to overtake her. In that moment she was not the beautiful princess sworn to his brother, the heir to the Asgardian throne. She was the little girl whom he had met as a child, teasing her relentlessly until she ran away, crying. She was the young teen who had allowed him to kiss her in one of the deserted corridors of Valhalla during a holiday visit from the Vanaheim court. She was the young woman who, not even two years prior, had given Loki her maidenhead in his chambers and then cried in his arms afterwards. Sigyn was the woman whom he loved above all else, and all he knew was that she was in pain. Gingerly he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the doorway to his bedchamber, whispering in her ear as she cried into his neck.

After laying her upon the bed he did not immediately join her, instead remaining where he was alongside the mattress, watching her. A few moments passed before her tears slowed and she met his gaze with shy curiosity. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m merely admiring your beauty,” Loki murmured, his eyes roaming over her figure lying prone on his bed. Never in his life had he met anyone equal to her resplendence, not even the goddess of beauty herself, Sigyn’s own mother, Freyja. There was no sight Loki loved more than that of his beloved on her back, her long, pale hair fanned across his pillow as her lovely breasts rose and fell with intimidation and longing. He could almost hear her heart as it raced in her chest and was reminded forcibly of the rabbit that sensed a predator closing in. When her alabaster cheeks took on a rosy pink tint, Loki grinned down at her fondly. “No one can compare to you.”

A tremor shook Sigyn’s body at his words and Loki crawled into the bed on top of her, taking her lips with renewed passion. It had been far, far too long since they had been together, and each moment which passed was like unearthing a bittersweet memory that had been all but forgotten. Sigyn’s trembling fingers running through his hair, her nipples stiffening beneath her silk dress and pressing noticeably into Loki’s chest even through his leather—it all came back to him in a burst of pristine clarity. Desire raced through him and one hand reached down to find the hem of Sigyn’s gown, dragging it slowly up her legs, his fingers caressing her skin as they went and eliciting a delicious shudder as he did so. Her legs exposed, he kept his chest remaining pressed against hers, remembering her shy admission that she enjoyed his weight upon her. All the while his fingers traced swirls across her calves and thighs, occasionally straying to the delicate flesh just between her thighs and womanhood.

“Did you prepare?” Loki murmured in Sigyn’s ear, his breath teasing the strands of hair there and sending another shiver running the length of her body. She did not have to ask for clarification and merely nodded once, her face pressing into his neck. He knew that back in Vanaheim she had made a useful contact in a local woman whose specialty was in herbs and potions. With Sigyn’s ample money as trade, the woman provided her with potions that kept her from conceiving on her visits to Loki’s bed.

Allowing himself to give in to his hunger, Loki pressed himself between her legs. She caught her breath when she felt his hardness and gripped onto his shoulders, spreading her legs wider in welcome. Sigyn, his beautiful, timid Sigyn. Loki cupped her chin with his finger and lightly brushed her lips with his own, his heart clenching at the little sigh of longing that escaped her. With one hand he reached between her legs and rested his open palm to her womanhood.

Sigyn’s breathing escalated at the pressure and Loki hid a grin in her hair as he kissed her neck. For all of the shyness Sigyn possessed she had also had the foresight to not wear any panties, and her body heat told him all too well the affect he was having upon her. Gently he pressed an index finger into her folds and felt her body react forcibly: her hips bucked against his hand and her nails dug more deeply into his shoulders, a luscious gasp of surprise filling his ears. She was so incredibly tight and hot against his finger that each plunge seemed to stoke the flames of a furnace until soon, the blaze threatened to consume his own lust. He slid his finger out of Sigyn and was greeted with her moan of need as he unfastened his pants.

Writhing beneath him, Sigyn suddenly found Loki’s eyes and went still. The skin of her face and neck were flushed with eagerness, her shyness all but forgotten within the look of pure anticipation that she gave him. Their gaze remained fastened as Loki slid his length into her, watching her face as she struggled to accept his girth after so long without having been filled. He kept a painfully slow, gentle motion while his lips traced paths along her cheeks and neck, finally settling on her lips when he felt her walls gripping less painfully upon his shaft. With one, deep plunge he made Sigyn cry out, wrapping her legs around Loki’s hips as he delved into her.

“Sigyn,” he breathed when her eyes suddenly clenched shut. She opened them and refocused on Loki as he pushed himself into her as far as he could reach, his hips pinning hers to the bed as she gasped for breath at the pain of it. He knew that she desperately enjoyed when he pushed her limits, and he knew, too, that she loved to feel as if she has been marked by him. Tears fell from the corner of those azure eyes and he kissed them away even as the sobs continued to shake her. Sigyn wrapped her arms around Loki and he laid the whole of his weight against her, comforting her with proximity as she wept. This was not the first time she had cried during their coupling, but he knew that the cause was different this time. The prospect of her marriage to Thor hung heavy between them and Loki resented it, but buried the anger so as to maintain focus on the moment. “Look at me.”

She did as he bade, and he saw the love glowing behind her eyes with each of his thrusts into her body. He saw the bliss she felt, the closeness to him that she knew as his shaft burrowed into a part of her that no one else alive had ever explored. He refused to think that this time tomorrow his own brother was to know Sigyn in this way but, even as he struggled to keep the image from his mind, the picture was painted more clearly across it: Thor on top of Sigyn, spreading her legs with his rough hands and plowing into her, taking her in much the same way he took his wenches. Before he knew what was happening a tear had fallen from his own eye and landed on Sigyn’s cheek. Her mouth opened in a faint ‘O’ of surprise; Loki had never shed tears before her. With a trembling hand she reached up to cup his face, wiping the now-streaming tears from his cheek as they came.

A recklessness overtook Loki with his rage and he buried his face in Sigyn’s neck as he began to pummel into her with more force than he had ever done before. She groaned but did not try to slow his speed, her hands gripping onto Loki’s hair even as her back arched with what was unmistakably pleasure. He could feel her body tensing, could feel her walls gripping onto his manhood in desperation as her orgasm began to fast approach. He gripped her hips to keep them still as he drove into her, every time his pelvis rammed into hers drawing an unconscious moan of gratification from her. In a matter of minutes Sigyn’s body convulsed, her breathing stopping all together for a few heart-stopping seconds as her insides crashed against his shaft in waves of ecstasy, the sensation so powerful that it drew Loki’s own orgasm from him. His seed spurted inside of her, coating and filling her womb for what, he knew, was to be the last time.

Overcome with emotion and exhaustion, Loki fell on top of Sigyn with his face still pressed into her neck, breathing in the scent of her. She did not move, save to wrap her arms and legs more tightly around him. In a moment of shame he realized that her own tears had ceased and she was now the one comforting him as he wept silently in her arms. No matter what he did, Loki could not shake the horrible thought he had been suppressing for months since hearing of the betrothal: that he would lose all claim to the woman he loved, and his own brother would be the one to wed her and give her children.

“I love you,” Sigyn whispered in his ear and Loki wept truly then, his face scrunched up as gasps of agony escaping his throat while she cradled him, his now-flaccid manhood still nestled in her familiar warmth. He could not bear the thought of her belonging to someone else, of never being able to love her as he had for so many long years, of watching her belly grow round with his nephew rather than his son. He wept bitterly with loss and helplessness, hating himself for giving into the pain and yet unable to stem the flow once it had been unstoppered. For a long time they lay in a mass of sweaty, entangled limbs, Sigyn kissing his cheek and stroking his hair as the tears burned their path down his skin before finally drying up; in their wake was left a husk of the man who had shed them.

“We have to get ready for the wedding,” Loki finally said in a monotonous tone. His eyes found Sigyn’s again as he removed himself from her body and re-fastened his pants. She lay still for a moment on his bed, as if preparing herself for the courage to do something. When she stood up and straightened her gown and hair, Loki did not need to be told the symbolic meaning of what had just come to pass: From this moment on they were no longer to be lovers, but siblings.

Something broke inside of Loki as he snuck Sigyn out of his chambers and watched her hurry down the hallway towards her own guest chambers. Deadened, he turned back into his room to prepare for the wedding ceremony.

 

 

All of Asgard and Vanaheim seemed to have converged on Valhalla for the royal wedding. The union of the Aesir and the Vanir was one that had for thousands of years seemed an impossibility. However with the looming war with Muspelheim, the two most powerful races in the realms had finally set aside their differences to create peace, lest they all be destroyed. Thus the union between Thor, oldest son and heir of Asgard, and Sigyn, only princess of Vanaheim, was now considered by all to be the event of the millennium.

Loki noticed little as he dressed himself in his finest armor and made his way to the grand hall where the wedding was to take place. All around him were cheers and the sounds of celebration; after all, this was the most joyous day that had long since passed in either of the realms’ recent histories. The festivity in the air only served to sicken Loki, however, and it was with an expression of forced calm that he made his way to where Thor stood waiting on the steps leading to the throne, dressed in his finest armor as well.

“Brother! You look ill, are you alright?”

“Very, thank you.” Loki had to fight to keep the sudden loathing of his brother from his voice. He was spared having to engage in any further dialogue by the entrance of the two sets of reigning monarchs into the throne room. All of them were impressive in their glory: Odin and Frigga dressed in red and silver, Odr and Freyja in white and gold. The two pairs made their way up the stairwell and came to stand in front of the throne, overlooking the thousands of people squeezed into the hall.

“Thank you all for coming,” Odin boomed out to the crowd, who immediately fell silent at his words, “to the wedding of my dear son Thor, and Sigyn of Vanaheim. Today ushers in a new era of peace and for that we should all find reason to celebrate in our newfound fortune.”

He lifted a hand in acknowledgement of the crowd who, in unison, all burst into cheers. The sight of so many people ecstatic brought a lump to Loki’s throat. There was not a single unhappy soul in the room save for him and each of their thunderous claps and roars of approval felt like a slap in the face. He could only watch, heart hammering in his chest, as the massive, golden doors at the end of the hall opened and a single figure was revealed behind them.

Even from a distance Sigyn was magnificent in her wedding gown as she made her way slowly down the aisle, giving each of her new subjects a view of her natural elegance as she went. The gown was two layers, with the under portion comprised entirely of golden silk and pearls sewn on in an intricate pattern. The top layer opened over top of the golden skirt, and was comprised of the finest white silk that trailed behind her for a good twenty feet. The only sleeves were little caps of fabric across her shoulders, and the paleness of her skin in the sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows gave her an ethereal glow. The top half of her white-blonde hair had been caught up and pinned to her head in a delicate knot, and a single, golden necklace hung from her neck and rested against her slight cleavage.

As Loki watched her approach, he was tortured in the knowledge that her beauty was no longer his to admire.

Sigyn reached the marble steps alongside of Thor, who took her hand and led her the rest of the way up the stairs to where Odin and Odr stood waiting. Loki, standing to the right of Thor, caught her eyes for the briefest of moments—and saw a flash of tears in them before her attention was forced onto Odin.

The ceremony dragged on, and yet Loki heard none of it. Every now and then Sigyn’s voice, repeating the lines given to her, broke through the wall in his mind with an agonizing jolt, but then it was gone again and Loki remained standing deathly still within the confines of his building rage. Occasionally he would glance over to where Thor held Sigyn’s hand and jealousy reared in the pit of his stomach like a venomous snake.

“Then I, the Allfather, command that these two shall be join—“

“Wait!”

A deafening silence greeted Loki’s interruption as all eyes turned towards him. Then a muttering spread across the crowded hall like wildfire. Loki ignored the outburst, staring instead at Sigyn whose eyes were wide with terror. Loki stepped forward so that he was standing between he and Thor, facing the two sets of monarchs.

“Loki, what is the meaning of this?” Odin hissed. Beside him Frigga watched quietly and, much to Loki’s disquiet, seemingly unsurprised by her youngest son’s actions. Odr and Freyja, on the other hand, were looking rather as if someone had knocked them off of their feet.

“I seek permission to wed Sigyn instead, father.”

Gasps and cries of surprise rang out in the hall but Odin shushed them all with a loud growl and waving of his hand. When he turned his one eye to Loki, the emotions underlying the surface of his battle-scarred face were unreadable. “You are interrupting the union of your brother and the princess of Vanaheim, Loki. Does your mischief know no bounds?”

“Mischief? You misunderstand me, father.” Loki turned towards Sigyn, whose blue eyes glistened with tears that did not fall. He reached a hand out to take the one not being held by Thor and pressed it to his lips; at the touch a smile broke across her face like a ray of sunshine across a stormy sky. “I love Sigyn with all of my heart.”

Loki then turned his eyes to Thor, who had remained rooted to the spot during the entire exchange with his eyes moving swiftly between Loki and Sigyn. When the two brothers’ eyes met a silent understanding passed between them. They both were remembering Thor’s painful separation from Sif, who had been married to some faraway prince by her father’s command a few years prior. Thor searched Loki’s eyes for a moment before slowly turning towards the four rigid figures standing near the throne.

“I do not object to this, Allfather. Allow Loki to marry Sigyn. The treaty can still remain intact and then these two need not be torn apart.”

Odr spluttered and finally found his voice, turning to rage at Odin. “Is this your idea of a joke? We were promised the heir of Asgard as our daughter’s husband, you have deceiv—“ he fell silent as his wife’s hand came to rest lightly on his arm.

“Husband, do you not recall how we ourselves eloped because my father did not wish for us to be wed? Have pity on our daughter, Odr. Look at how she gazes at this man.”

Loki, whose attention had been caught up between the arguing royals, turned with everyone else his attention back to Sigyn on his arm. She was clutching him as dearly as a lifeline, staring up with unabashed love and admiration at Loki. He smiled down at her and squeezed her hand, remembering with a jolt how not even two hours prior he had spent his seed inside of her and lain weeping in her arms.

Odin turned to face Frigga, who merely nodded once with her assent. Then he turned to Odr, whose face was still crimson with fury, and Freyja, who was smiling at Loki and Sigyn affectionately. “If you would permit it, Odr, I would give consent to this union and the terms of our treaty would not have to be altered in any way.”

Silence hung heavy over the throne room. The guests had gone absolutely still, unable to hear what was being discussed on the dais but nonetheless seemingly aware of the importance of the matter. Finally, the red in his face lessening slightly, Odr nodded.

“Wonderful, I’m very glad for you both,” Thor said with a one-armed hug of Loki and a kiss on Sigyn’s cheek. “Now I think you and I should swap places,” he motioned affably towards Loki. They exchanged places and Odin cleared his throat loudly so that the whole hall could hear.

“Upon further discussion, the princess Sigyn shall instead be married to the prince Loki.”

A smattering of confused, polite applause broke out, followed by cheers of approval when Thor raised Mjolnir to show his solidarity and approval of the swap. The joyful cries of their subjects rung in Loki’s ears as he gazed lovingly into Sigyn’s eyes, whose tears of joy now flowed freely as Odin continued on with the ceremony. His words fell on deaf ears, Loki and Sigyn being so caught up in each others’ presence that they didn’t notice when Odin had stopped speaking.

“Loki,” Thor murmured, jolting him back to the present.

“Yes?” he asked in a daze, turning to gaze up at his parents.

Frigga smiled lovingly down at him. “Kiss your bride, Loki.”

Loki beamed at Sigyn and lowered his face, pressing his lips tenderly against hers as a roar of thunderous celebration erupted around them. None of it mattered to Loki, who wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her with unbridled passion. He could taste her salty tears mingling with his own on their lips and, when their faces finally broke apart, they both began to laugh with joy before turning to wave at the cheering crowd.


End file.
